The bigger picture
by SAINTIXE56
Summary: They say all things have a beginning, mine was a long time ago. My friends are among you. Beware when you're in the way.Whatever their disguise, I shall reunite them...one day...I hope. French writer, reviews welcomed.
1. Chapter 1

They met, officially, during one of the numerous truces between our clans feudal wars. Not that we are feudal, yet this is the best way to describe our ways to you people. Think mighty lords and haughty ladies. Think spirited lasses and dashing swordplay. But that would be as true as comparing Lascaux and Picasso; works of art albeit…different.  
>Let suffice to say, we are powerful, very powerful. Way more than you people. She was powerful too, this young sister of mine. Almost my child. I was already a grown woman and a warrior when the Lights brought her to me. I knelt in front of the Beings. If you would not dare to test the millionth of my strength, I would not dare to defy the Beings. They do not fear me, they know my heart is pure and they have blessed my household by giving me a sister at last. Our parents sacrifice was not in vain.<br>So, it came a time when I was fighting, with a mind elsewhere. A mind circling around the Young One. It was her very first cycle. She was such an innocent. A feisty, plucky one though. My little sister who let a sword fall on the floor of the Great Hall and scurried to hid under the table, hoping I would not hear the noise. Her big sister not turning up, she came out, held the sword and tried to mimic my swordplay. What would you do when you see a child raising a long killing sword? You hold her hand and you show her how to thrust in your enemy throat. The years passed, she grew into a lovely girl, a bouncy girl plenty of curls and giggles. It seemed that her elder sister had chosen to be as sterner as much as the young one had chosen to laugh and smile at life. When you are given the responsibilities that come with power, you do not often smile. I could not smile but my sister did it for us two. I have the responsibility of a clan, a warring clan.

She was not for war this one. She would naturally as befitting to the heir of a warriors clan know how to raise our standard, give as good as she was given, held high the great axe and let it fall on some necks. But she preferred peace, joy, life. She was a warrior daughter, a warrior sister but her heart was not on war. That does not mean she stood idle. Upon hearing some pawns were being played at, and ready for slaughter, she went ahead and freed them alone, all by herself, without informing me of her plan. That is how they really met.

That was my fault, I should have warned her. But how was I to know? It takes a few cycles to understand the rules of our world, the dos and the don'ts, the musts and the taboos, all our laws. Since our creation, clans were made, untold alliances, revered unions, careful alliances, breakings of friendships and factions, rivalry. Yet you could say overall our world was divided from the beginning. You were fighting for and along the Beings or you could and would not surrender to their decisions.  
>Our clan has always served the Beings; our standard is as pure as snow. We are the Whites, white among whites. Fair ones. The keepers of the equilibrium, the guardians of the Game. No cheating allowed with us around. The Dark Ones resent our interference; they say we spoil the spirit of the Game. The Dark Ones we are not supposed to ally to…<p>

What is the Game? The Game was invented by the Beings, probably out of boredom. But they have taken to it. You create and then you play. We play with you, the pawns.  
>Yes, it is not fair for you. What is fair? The Beings say they know for they have a plan; we are not told of the contents of the Plan. We just make sure no one mess with the Game, or the Rules or the Plan. We make sure the Dark ones do not foil the plan. The Dark Ones and the Fallen Ones.<p>

Now let me tell you of two brothers. One was already given or almost to the Dark Ones, he was a through and through Fallen, wearing his disgrace as a badge of honour. I knew him; our clans have been allied for a long time before they had entered into the Dark realm. But this one would not accept the rules, would want to choose for his own, his own free will, as if there was such a thing as free will when we are all but the children of the Beings. We are servants, nothing more, nothing less. The Dark Ones rejoiced when he brought his standard in their great Hall and let it fall at their feet. He would serve them. The Game was unfair, the pawns had not enough gifts, the pawns were just the playthings of the Gods…  
>Fool as he was. His brother was…different. Now, this one with the right friends would have gone up high in the hierarchy. But he loved his brother so he went with him; because the Dark Ones promised him they would protect the object of his solicitude. Now this fool, for both brothers were fools, had taken to fall in love with a mortal, a pawn, like you. The Beings forbid such alliances. The Guardians do not ally with Humans. Lords do not mingle with Slaves.<p>

I was not despairing. First I would tackle this one on his folly and the two together we would talk his brother out of this alliance with the Dark Ones. Time was pressing; already a cunning one was getting his attention. What mischief was brewing, I knew not, except it would be terrible.  
>This course of action did not happen as War interrupted all our projects. The Brothers fought along the Dark ones; my sister and I along the Guardians. My sister heard of pawns being mistreated, in her good heart she decided to help and free them. I see it now, because I can see it. How? Our world is, as I have said different. Imagine, imagine Olympus, with more futuristic technology than one of your favourite movies. Asgard on steroids. Medieval Japan played in a very, very distant future. So I can see it, here now in the palm of my hands like that. No, do not be afraid; there is nothing to fear of me. I am but a sad and forlorn woman who misses her kin.<br>They met, they fought, he was stronger; that was not a surprise. He had already seen a few cycles, he was not a child and he knew the Rules. And he dared again to break the Rules. He dared and got punished for it. She fought as I have taught her, but her swordplay was not match to his. When he thought she would surrender, she stroke again and escaped him. That is how he started to look at her with respect. Probably he would have caught her again, but he had to let her go. Our clan upon hearing my sister being in danger of captivity was coming to the rescue. She was saved. She was lost.

The Young One heart has always been pure; always she had a good word for any and every one of us. When Peace came, and it did come, once and awhile, we would have months or years of peace. After this skirmish, a truce, a new truce, another truce was concluded. What do you do during a truce, you rejoice, you feast, you meet and you engage in contest, tournament. That is how they officially met.  
>He was bored, war was a pain, but peace with all those excited people around was worse. And all those lovers, and the music. He was trying to avoid the crowd, when she bumped into him. That is my fault. I had ordered a round of drinks for my friends, and would you have it, the servants had not brought enough ale. My sister, my own sister went like a servant to bring some from our tent. And I let her, I let her…<br>He was walking in front of our tent, when she burst out like the child she was, not watching if someone was walking in front and she bumped into him, dousing him with ale. Wars have been started for less. She apologized profusely, she was blushing, and she was so sorry; she was adorable when she was blushing. I suspect the direction of his steps toward our tent were not accidental. That is irrelevant as it was too late.  
>After that, I can only surmise they met at nights, when everyone was sleeping. When she should have closed her door, when he was old enough to know our clans were now enemies. They were in love; they were blind to the consequences. They entered their name on the Book. On the book, you hear. On the book, they entered their names. They did not ask my permission, as the Head of our Clan. He was their Chieftain, he was not mine. Anyhow, that is how our two clans got allied again. Unbeknownst to me.<br>War erupted again and this time, we won. We won finally; the Castle of the Dark Ones was raided. Oh, I am no fool; many escaped, but not most of all, not the brothers. As a lady of the Realm, I sat as a judge. The fair brother I condemned to a minor sentence, he had about committed no real crime I could think off except with the mortal; but the dark one, now, he had fought, he had been an ally of the Dark Ones. He was responsible through his folly of the deaths of countless pawns, the pawns he was supposed to love and protect. Let say I do not like you, humans. I despise your smugness, your tendency to betray, your hypocrisy. When you kill, when you ravish a soul, you do not have even the dignity to respect the deads. Whatever, he had killed and had to be punished. I was going to sentence him to the Pit when she ran into my rooms. She begged, she pleaded for mercy. He was not too pleased by that. But it pleased me, not that my sister was a silly wench. But that he knew that an honourable lord does not do pleading. It was a done deal, when she kneeled in front of me, and crawled. Crawled! The shame, the horror…  
>- "Sister, beloved sister, have mercy; have mercy on him, on me. Please, do not send him to the PIT. Please, please…he is kin…"<br>I turned and faced them. What did she mean by kin? Our clans were not allied. The world came to crash when she told me about the book.  
>She had never seen me in a rage. Now she knew why I was a warrior, why I was the head of our Clan. The fool, the fool, she had betrayed me, betrayed our slain parents, betrayed our clan, betrayed the Beings.<br>He stood in front of me; he dared to defy me and would protect the Young one against me. Despite being my prisoner. Arrogant bastard as he was.

That was when I last saw them. It was the last time I have ever seen them face to face. The three of them and absent but there the human woman the fair one loved.  
>I had to decide. The Pit was ruled out; I would never send my kin to the Pit. But I was honour bound to avenge the Beings. What was I to do?<br>I thought of the human and chose the best course of actions. That is what you do when you are a leader. You lead and decide.  
>I condemned him to exile, on Earth. His memory would be altered. He would forget about our world. He would be a monster among the pawns he had wanted to protect. Nice punishment as it goes. The fair one begged to go with him; he would not leave his brother alone in that cruel exile. So I sentenced him also, but atone it, monster he would be but on a lesser extent. Mean I am not. I knew his good heart, so I made sure he would meet again his human lover. Life would not be easy for them, but they would meet, have a life and a human love.<br>He did not beg for mercy. Then I looked in my sister eyes and saw so much despair, so much pain I could not but relent, but feel sorry for her. But what could I do? I sentenced her to exile.

-"As it is the last time we meet, unless the Beings, the Council of the Guardians overturns my judgement, let's all drink together, praying for better days"

I poured in every and each cup the golden liquid you, humans reported as ambrosia which it is not! And they all drank, because it was the way and they vanished from the Hall for ever…  
>Yes, it was cruel for me. I had lost my sister and my children often wonder why I look away. I look away because I try to hear her laugh. I hope she laughs where she is. I know she must, I hope she does. I have let drop in her cup, in his cup some bonding powder. He will look for her, she will look for him and the same goes for the brother. They are going to look for each other, I know, I pray they will find each other. They will not know why, but they will.<br>As we speak, we have found out some Dark ones are hiding among the human pawns, the Game is not over. So I hope I shall find them soon. I am not afraid for her, whatever happens; her heart is in the right place, my sweet little sister. She will follow the Rules set by the Beings; she will be always on the good side of the fence. The fair one, I am not too worried, oh, he is a fool, and will run into mischief, but with his human lover, they stand a good chance. It is about him, the dark one I worry. His propensity to run into trouble, his tendency to rage and get angry and he fights dirty. Wrong, wrong, my friend. They need to stick together otherwise they can fall. My sister needs him to survive in that cruel world of yours, human. If he crosses the threshold, I cannot protect her. I cannot help any of them. I have to rely to crude magic, except you know it is not magic. Just some much modern nanotechnology than you can't dream off. Just some recognizing intracellular organite, looking for its counterpart, a signal looking for two other signals.  
>What am I to do? If the triple bound is undone, what I am to do to save the three of them. It is my kin now. They are my kin and I cannot help them. And I am so powerful, human, so powerful and so helpless…<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The eons had passed. Wars had always existed and it was our way of life. I was getting married myself at the time. Yes, that was unexpected, but I was not given a choice. From the beginning, carefully vetted marriages are planned between the clans. Often from childhood, we are betrothed. My promised Lord having died in infancy, I was a free woman; our parents died and my mind would have been set on war if the Beings had not told me that revenge is unworthy emotion. I served the Lights and my heart was at peace. Thus they rewarded me with the Young One stewardship.

She was young and pretty, she was to be my heir and I was stupid enough to believe that being a leader was enough for me. Some are made for love, some are not. Some of us believe we are too stale, too wise for the guiles of Love. Some of us are fools. Anyhow, she was my heir, the heir of the clan. I planned to allow one of my old friends' nephew to bring her a beribboned flowered branch of the Friendship tree. Because that is our way to inform a prospective partner that he or she has caught our attentions. If the branch is worn then we are told we can pursue the acquaintance. The whelp was nervous, I thought him nice.

As you know the best plans can be led astray. My sister met the Fallen One. I could not understand why she was delaying the young man offering. Now, I know. She could have told me, you say. She could not, for I am unforgiving with traitors. She was betraying our laws, the Beings, all what our clan holds dear and sacred. She could not wear his offering; not that he would have bothered. I have it for a fact he considered me fusty; an old busy body that is what he called me and that was on a good day. Yet, they entered their name on the Book. This has been his choice, his will behind it. Did he think that would mellow me? Did the Dark Ones suggest it as a mean to corrupt our clan? I have acquitted him of such base scheming. All in all, I believe that he was as much smitten as the Young One. Then you know what happened…

After they left, I was occupied by administering the freed lands. Nothing is better than work to occupy the mind from unrequested thoughts. I had served the Beings; the Honour of the Clan was intact. My honour was unsoiled, why what is I felt so sad. The Clan Elders raised the issue one day; I was without heir. I replied I was too old, way too old to beget an heir. It came then that one day, a bunch of flowers were left by the large bow I had used on the day we raised the Castle of the Old Ones. The colours of the ribbon told me the clan and the position of the branch giver. It was coming from the scholar brother of a faithful retainer, a less famous clan, but as unyielding as mine in the matters of Honour and Duty. It pleased me to wear the branch, not because I suddenly forgot my years, but because after all those years, he had finally relented, accepting he would never walk ahead of me. I am a warrior; he is a lord in his own right. But he is only a scholar. So we married, and my heart was happy until I remember that the Young One should have rejoiced with our clan.

It came that when I was with child for the second time that the Beings came to our Hall. At the time, I was getting the child soul ready. This would be a girl. Our first born was a lusty son. Said son had pleased the Elders. After so many eons, the standard could, maybe, be raised by a male hand. My spouse had been less pleased; he thought our family had too many warriors. I could not care less, a healthy child was enough blessing; two were a miracle. The Beings walked the long corridors and honoured me as I was kneeling in the snow garden.

Before birth, we teach our own to be strong as we kneel for hours on ice, on snow. Fouler the weather, the better. So I was kneeling alone in the snow, meditating; talking to that future child of mine, teaching her to be honour-bound, when they came, kneeled and advised me eye to eye. I was to be congratulated; I was profuse in my thanks. The clan would have an heir and a spare. I was almost happy, until my spouse kneeled in front of the Beings. My spouse made me blush. He told sleepless nights, silent tears, and lonely rides till I came back exhausted, yet closing my door to anyone foolish enough to cross it and be sent to the Pit , so to speak.

The Beings said I had been wise to bind the three absents. I had been found out; I had brought shame like my sister to the clan. Behold the mercy of the Lights, I had been forgiven. Better still, they called me wise as I had been merciful to the star-crossed lovers; honourable as I did condemn them all who had betrayed the Rules. They promised to protect them as much as they could because they too, had to obey the Plan for the Game.

Blessed are the Lights for their mercy, blessed are they in their Wisdom. They gave me peace and solace. Our daughter was born. All was quiet. As much quiet there is when you have war almost constantly, but it is not a problem; we are used to it. Possibly, because we do not lie, unlike you humans. We say things as they are. When we say war, it means that someplace somewhere, 2 or more clans are fighting, the Dark Ones do not submit easily, they resent us, and we do not like them. We do not pretend war does not exist because it is not on our backyard. War is all over, but as I say we are gifted by seeing the bigger picture. You say you are not at war, yet what are you doing these days on your eastern shores. On the tall mountains of your far east, that is war, methinks. That is denial when people refuse to call things by their names. But then, you are hypocrites…

Again and again, I would worry about the Young Ones, about the three of them, but the Beings were protective. My children grew up; this son of mine is ready to lift the standard; not a fool this one. My daughter is also ready, but she takes after my sister, she dreams so much that we felt it right to call our son the rightful heir and allow her to pursue scholarly battles as her father. I see the day soon when little legs will run the Great Hall and little hands try the Great War Bow and open the dusty books.

Yesterday, my eyes were open, as I was told the Truth. Some Dark Ones, quite a lot more than originally thought had escaped our righteous wrath. They had decided to make their own the Game; they were playing with the pawns. A very cunning one was among them, well, that is not true. A lot of cunning ones were roaming the Board. Far from being even on the Scales of Destiny, the place of exile I had sent my kin was rife with danger. Bad as it was, I still was counting on the Fallen One to protect the Young One, this bride of his. Between him and the fair One, she would be, she should, she could be safe. He who believes himself safe is blind to the risks. The Truth was totally exposed: The Miko was free at long last.

What is a Miko? Now, that is a hard one. A Miko, I know, but you, you have forgotten all about them. Let's fly back in time, when …When you certainly did not exist, nor your furry forefathers. In those days, only we would walk on the forests. The world was full of giants, killing scaly giants. Those creatures: do not fool yourself, also dreamt at the stars. Those creatures had souls, and souls do dream. The Miko belonged to one of the giant dreams. Not one of the most powerful, but certainly a vicious one. You do not know her; you call her a witch. The word witch is so…reductive.

Anyhow, a day, a long time ago, the Fallen One path had crossed the Miko's. Do not look surprised. The Fallen One could charm many a maiden and the Miko was woman enough to wish he would turn at her. He did, naturally. He did because he was a fool and should have known better than trifle with a Miko's dreams. He did because he needed female company. Why didn't he choose a girl who knew how the game was played? But he chose the Miko and the Miko thought she was his Chosen One.

They rode along above the Horizon. But he got bored of her demands. Possibly he realized alas too late, the Miko did not know the Laws, would not play by the Laws. Possibly, and I do not rule this out. He saw through the Miko disguise and saw her for the Demon Child she is. For Mikos are begotten from Demon seed and Dark Ones. The last and final straw was pulled when he met my Young One.

She was honour-bound. A true Lady of the Realm, a courageous one, a lovely one; one who would love once and only him. If, …, if things had been different, if the Fallen One had chosen to fly his standard with ours the White Ones, the Guardians, I would have welcomed him in our Great Hall. I would have blessed his desire toward the Young One. Let me tell you, I think he would not have bothered asking my blessings, not out of disrespect, but because he would have said this was a private matter between my sister and him.  
>Anyhow he was honourable and entered his name and my sister. The Miko was furious. They say Hell has no fury but a woman scorned. Tell that to the Miko. The Miko raged and decided to enact revenge on both lovers. Against him, because he had seen through her and rejected the Demon even if he fought for the Dark Ones. Against my sister because the cause of her rejection was a Lady of the Realm who has innocently stolen her lover. Never did the Miko question herself whether she, the…the witch had not caused it to herself.<p>

So that was it, the three exiles were in mortal danger. The Dark Ones, the Cunning Ones and the Miko. If it had been here, I would not have bothered. I would have said that he had asked for trouble and would have to sort this mess himself out without his kin help. If the worse came to the worse, I could always pierce the Miko heart with that War Bow of mine and burn her black heart with an incendiary arrow. Because I do not tolerate witchcraft on my lands. My spouse, now, is not a wizard; he sees things and plays with them. But it is honourable, respectable magic or science. Not Miko stuff.

- "Danger! Oh, Blessed ones, please advise this fool child how to protect her kin?"

So, this chapter ends. Today, I shall drink the cup and fly over the suns and the moons. Today, I shall walk on the board of the Game. I am going to look for them. I cannot fight for them, but I am allowed to advise them. Will the Fallen One listen to me? He is so sanguine. Is she, are they still alive? Where is the Miko? I do not fear the Dark Ones. The Beings have allowed me to treat those rebels as in our world. If they lose their heads, so be it. What of the fair One and his human lover? Tonight, I shall know.

Contrary to them, I shall always remember who I am which is why, human, you know me for who I am really. I would be able to choose my human guise. I shall try and find them. If I fail or something irreversible has happen, I can and will go home and ask help from the Lights. Blessed is their promise! I cannot but pray the Fallen One is able to protect her, that the two and three of them and possibly the human one if she is as spirited as I think she is are standing proud and fighting the Dark Ones. But I am worried. I shall know soon, The Lights are going to brief me before I drink the cup.

Chapter 3

The air was bracing. Not that is was unusual. At sea, the air will be fresh and windy all the time. I say almost, because the smell aboard was far from refined. Our ship was strong and sailing high, flying Our Very Christian Majesty Lilly white flag. I say very Christian, not Catholic. Our King's mother was a Spaniard, a Rome Daughter. This had not prevented her father to marry her off to the son of our Protestant Henri. Henri, our beloved King, the King who had re-united the Realm, who had attended a Catholic Mass if it killed him to save his Kingdom, to bring peace to his people. Henri who gave peace, blessed is his Name. Peace did not prevent him to be murdered by a traitor paid by Spanish Gold.

Decades later, I was born. My father deplored the Good King death, deplored the Righteous King death too. Father and son, honourable warriors, honourable men. A lusty king, indulging in bedding too many wenches willing to let their heart be broken; a solitary king, who never gave in to his whims as solitary as his father had been promiscuous. Both kings who loved their country more than anything. Both kings who were betrayed by their consorts. Marie, the fool who wanted to rule without any experience or intelligence. Anne who wanted to rule because she was the Very Catholic King Daughter. I shall not speak ill if the deads. Marie was not innocent in her husband assassination. Anne fought like a lioness for her very young King and son.

After so many years of civil war, we were at Peace. Henri sacrifice was not in vain. Louis the Righteous reminded us that he was Henri's son and thus would and could yield unmerciful strikes. Our Protestant Elders gave in and accepted to be ruled by a Catholic yet very Gallic King. Rome Bishop did not like Henri's son. Rome loved our Versailles builder. Our King, Henri's grandson refused to live in the Parisian Palace used since over 100years by his predecessors. This Louis wanted glory; this Louis hid behind Philippe skirts when it came to battle. I say skirts, because Philippe, Henri's grandson, a womaniser's grandson preferred male companions. Ah bah, nobody is perfect. Philippe for all his affectations had more courage in his heart that his straight brother. Philippe thanks would be banishment from any battlefield, as to avoid the shadow of cowardice to be raised on our King Standard. I could not care less if Philippe bedded graceful stubbly youths, if Louis was lifting giggling high born ladies skirts as long as my country standard was unblemished.

That is where really my story begins. Let me give you fair warning: it is about as complicated as the story of my Kings!

As you know, I am a lady of the Realm, by which I mean the Above Realm. Here on Earth seeing the disdain you had for us and seeing the folly some females chose to follow, I decided for a masculine guise. Hence, here I was captain of my ship, faithful corsair to the French King. Male though, I remained as ever I would and will be honour bound to my King, though it was going very much against the grain with Louis.

Now, that was my fault. Firstly, I was a bastard. There is nothing wrong with being a bastard. One is not responsible for his parents' sin. The thing was that my parents had really gone against everyone advice. He was a Protestant baron; you would call that possibly gentry. She certainly was a Catholic maid. A spirited one, a rich one. My father was not after her dowry, which is good. This was bad as he was incensed when they refused the match. Though not a great lord, his blood was noble. Yes, Father; we are noble, but we are heretics.  
>My maternal grandparents refusing the suitor thus sent my tearful mother to a convent. They really were clueless about their daughter and my resourceful father. Since when a wall prevents two lovers to meet? I would like to know! To make things worse, they had the imbecilic notion that a pregnancy would weigh on accepting his offer. My mother ended up with child in a convent. This was certainly not an immaculate conception despite what the stupid nuns believed at first! You and I laugh now, but you have to know it was not laughable matter for my poor mother. The shame she brought on herself, the disgrace .<p>

My father offered again and again to right his wrongs, to marry her. He was ready to do everything, commit to everything; except for one thing. He was not going to confess any leaning toward Rome. Protestant he was born, protestant he would die. Not that he thought and neither do I, there is much difference between Rome and Geneva. Nor did he feel traitorous toward the Lilies; toward Charles Stuart, the beheaded King's son he felt as any true blooded French man should feel. He was a free man, simply wanted to read his Bible free from interference. My grandparents refused the marriage offer. He would have to abduct her; then they would have to swallow their pride. Mother took matters into her own hands; making everyone happy or unhappy, depending on how you see it.

She entered into labour with only a young novice to help. Novice ran for help, nun visited and ran for more help. By the time, a midwife was called, and then a doctor, my mother's fate was sealed. I was born; fair and healthy I was for my bloodlines are healthy, as my sweet mother died. Her parents could have been swayed by such a terrible fate; merciless they were. She had sinned; she had remained faithful to her unworthy heretic betrothed. That day, a closed carriage delivered to my glassed eyed father a live son and a dead woman body.  
>Father, who had been the life of any ballroom before, changed. They had refused him, they had denied my mother the love she craved, and he would have nothing to do with them. When my maternal Uncle died childless, when I became their sole heir, he refused any contact with them. We were poor, we would remain poor. Accept their money, never. They had about killed her; they would never get access to any issue of her. You could say Father took to heart the authors of the day. Corneille was full of honour, Racine was all about fate. Whatever, I was there, alive and hungry.<br>He had not been able to give his name to this gentle lady; he gave me a name. I would be his bastard, yet shame free. I would have a father who would give me love, as much love as two doting parents would give. To this day, around my neck, a locket shows when you open it the delicate neck, the blushing cheeks, the minx smile of my dear mother. Opposed to that miniature, my father had his likeness taken. Though unmarried, he remained true to her.  
>Eventually, because like my mother he was unable to bear a grudge, he relented and allowed my maternal family to see me, but under his watchful eyes. He knew their priests, their confessors. The priests had been the cause of my grandparent's cruel actions. They were the real culprits of my mother's death.<p>

Between you and me, I think my mother was not one to live long. Now days, women live long, much longer than men. In those days, men would be married 3 or 4 times. Not because they wanted, because they were widowed and widowed again and more widowed. Each time, with more children who needed a mother. Each time having more and more children; because in those days, Science was pitiful and Religion told us to beget children.

Anyhow, I inherited my maternal grandfather wealth and my father pride and faith. At 16, I was rich and an orphan. An armed orphan, for my father had taught me how to fight, fence, ride and all the requisite ornaments of any aristocratic whelp of the days.

The priests offered condolences and proffered help, guidance. Guidance because I was and would remain a Protestant. A rich orphaned protestant youth, with no parents to call for help. A bastard, true but a rich one. Either ways, by ruse or willingly I was to abjure and become their pawn. They learnt soon enough that I got my mother's obstination. Stubborn, I was just as her and come to think of it as my father. Born to the so called reformed religion, I would follow my father steps. Would my mother have switch faith? I am not so sure.

The priests were becoming a nuisance. Fearing once again a brotherly visit, I decided I had enough and rode to Saint Malo. M fate was sealed. By the great walls, I could see the ships, the Marine Royale, our Royal Navy. I would become a sailor. It was the right time for me to join. The Lilies were well served by numerous Privateers. Jean Bart, a protestant like me was bringing terror in the Goddams hearts, Duguay- Trouin was following his towering steps. For I was a tall lad, but Jean was way taller 6 feet and 7 inches. You could not miss him!

Quickly, I learned my way. I was an aristocrat but a bastard and a protestant to booth. I would never be able to rise in the hierarchy if I had the folly to serve in the Navy. Any Catholic able to avoid sinking his ship would bypass me. And I was not so sure about the non sinking part. Privateer on the other hand meant I would be my own master. The malouines accepted among them a brother in religion as a lot of us were not Rome slaves, the elders took pity on the orphan, the cunning ones tried to take advantage on the rich goose ready to be plucked. The cunning ones learnt fast that I was not to be plucked by the first sharp card player or dice roller. Young possibly, fool not.

I learnt the trade and enrolled for the first few courses on Duguay ship. Life was hard, life was tough for the newcomer. Boy, how life was exciting! For contrary to my much more aristocratic colleagues, I had not wasted my time. Father fastidiousness on the noble art of fencing was not lost. Soon, the pinched noses over the bastard of dubious origin were either bloodied by a swift punch or their owner timidly asked if I could teach them that trick with my sabre. As for learning to calculate roads and leagues and all what is necessary to a successful crossing, in short how to be a good captain, those boring hours spent over mathematical equations came in handy.  
>Duguay was as modest as he was a congenial leader, a courageous sailor and a brilliant commander. He is revered to these days and deserves all the praises. I was not as brilliant as he; for he but was eighteen when I was 21 when I became captain of my ship and given the royal letter of course, the letter of Marque. A privateer, a corsair. Sole commander of the ship after God. Sailing close to the wind.<p>

Let us say I enjoyed it very much. Louis was busy making friends with the Great Turk, so the Tunis pirates, the Mahometans were off limits. That was no problem, I would go after the Spanish Galleys, rich from South America Gold; being fair, I went also after the Portuguese ships. Louis's mother hailed from Spain, that did not prevent said so, from declaring war to his uncle. I still chuckle at the hypocrisy of those high born liars.

That is how I met the fair one. One night, I was coming back to my lodgings. The madam's girls were nice but…but if you insist and want the truth, I had met someone. Someone who happened to be quite as pretty as she was stubborn. Though, thank God, much less stubborn that my dear mother. In those days, let's say she had a mind of her own, and we still were naïve enough to believe Louis was not the utter fool he was going to prove later. So I was walking in the dim lit street, my pistols ready for any foolhardy attack on a rather fat purse as I was won a few gold ducats that night. That is when I saw them.

They were attacking him, the fair one. Alone possibly, they would have killed me and I would have been obliged to go through the damned business again of reincarnation. That night, a few sailors were waiting for me as we were looking for a new ship to buy. And my sore loser wanted to try again his luck. In short one against 4 blood suckers I had no chance. 4 vampires against a crew, his captain, the crew of another ship and another captain if slightly in his cups for we had broached a few bottles of brandy, that was way too many people to feed on for the vampires and they fled for they were cowards.  
>The fair one was in a right mess. They had beaten the living daylights out of him. Nose probably broken, too many bruises to count, likely some broken ribs, poor fair one.<p>

- "The bastards, they fled. The cowards, they knew he could not retaliate. Look, captain, he is a Jew"

That I could see as he was wearing the cap of his people. Louis was not cruel to the people of the synagogue; he certainly was much nicer to them than to my people. Still, in those days, ostracism was natural. Let's say to beat up a Jew to pulp was overlooked. I know, not at all politically correct, but those were the days. They had no right, except say thanks to the King, their natural protector. At least Louis, despite being born to Isabella de Castile's heir, was much more benign and protective than his proud ancestress.  
>I knelt and offered help. That is when I understood why he had been attacked. I whistled sadly. 3 angry scars ran along his left cheek. Naturally, he did not recognize me. Just thought I might carry on the cruel beating, this time courtesy of His Majesty navy. I happily proved the opposite.<p>

- "Come; come with me, fellow human. Those mon…odious creatures are fleeing. They are cowards, you know. For they do not hesitate to hit you while you could not defend yourself. Hold and behold, my friend, I and our crews arrive and they disperse like the creatures of the night they are"

-"Thank you. But I must go, I must…"

-"Go where? They are not many Jews in Saint Malo! Come with me. I am as much an outcast as you. Louis has no love for the way my people adore God. Come and stop saying no to the Bastard of Fresnel"

I signalled my men they could disperse and return to the bordellos of the city but François Larmoyer, my silly grin friend insisted on playing cards.

"Cards and not dice, because you won too much. You won too much or you are not lucky in love, matey."

It was the fair one who held my arm as I was going to draw out my blade. We all returned to Madame Lucy friendly rooms. The Jew was rolling eyes as the opulent breasts on display, the swearing was shocking his modest ears, but he did not refuse the Burgundy. So much for his people kosher laws.

A few hours later, we were all a bit heavy headed. This time, I had lost a few rubbers of bezique. Not that I minded. For I had taken badly his comment about been unlucky in love. I lost that night and felt so much better for it. Solomon Ben Zeev apparently was new in town. He was fleeing persecution from Westphalia, why was I not surprised.

-"Solomon, my friend, I do not doubt your word. Though I find it weird you, inlander, would end up here in our wonderful city of intrepid seafarers."

He mumbled something about putting his brothers at risk of retribution.

-"Solomon, welcome to Saint-Malo and the heartland of Louis faithful privateers. Please drink this brandy, and do not let the whore charge you twice"

Francois was drunk, some would call it very pissed but he knew enough to avoid a nursing a blinding headache tomorrow morning. Solomon was less lucky, he did not stop drinking believing alcohol could drown his private Hell; for me as soon as I recognized him, I had stopped drinking.

-"Tell me, Solomon, what is your trade?"

-"I do accounts for your people; I obey the laws regarding what I can engage in or not. For my people I am a doctor"

-"Solomon, my friend, let's thank the Bee…the Blessed Lord who led you to that street. Solomon, I need a barber-surgeon for my ship and nilly wily you'll learn to walk on a deck without being sick"


	3. Chapter 3

Solomon followed me meekly, a few steps behind. Because that was the way in those days. My lodgings were not luxurious as despite my grandfather wealth, a ship is pretty dear, a crew is dearer. We sat in the lower room which was passing for dining room, writing room and drinking room! He has holding his head down, the fair one.

"You know me as…"

"As what you are, friend, really are."

"Then you know…"

"Aye"

"And you are not afraid?"

"Nay, for if the going gets tough, there is a silver bullet for that "other" you in this small pistol. Do not jump, the trigger is not on!"

"If you know me for…what I am, why did you save me from the…the others?"

"Let's say a healthy dislike of bullies, not to mention the fact nobody of a sound mind wants to be…the thing you become every full moon. You did not ask for it. That is good enough"

He went silent looking at the red ambers of the dying chimney fire.

"And I do not know how to swim!"

"I don't either, yet I own a swift lovely ship. Orchard Maid is her name. I know, a bit girlish. But don't you say it. Not that there is much to fear about me, but the original maid is most feisty!"

"You are serious, you are deadly serious. You want me with you? But? How? The crew?..."

"ho, ho, friend. Relax. I shall come up with a solution. You can sleep here, the house is small, but the hearth is warm and you are welcome"

He went to the well to get some water out to wipe off the blood from his face; while I was calculating the risk to have at sea on a very small ship a raging werewolf. The wolf should be kept at bay, once a month. The rest of the time Solomon would be a perfect surgeon. Now, cleaner he sat sitting, again looking at the fire.

"Beside you do not need a surgeon. I am sure you have all what you need. I do not want your pity"

"I do need a surgeon, a medico, because my last one was too lazy to move his sorry arse to avoid a Spanish bullet"

"Oh?"

"Make you think, isn't it. Well, he was Corsican. Those people have quite a reputation for not bothering. Which leads me to the following question: How good are you with pistols? Ah…and swords? Shit! Well, we'll start from scratch. Go to bed now, Solomon, Tomorrow, I shall make a man out you, Westphalian!"

Inwardly, I was quite worried about the fair one. Not only the curse was on him, but he was clueless how to fight. Strangely, the next days, he discovered he was quite good with the pair of pistols I left him. The neighbours were less impressed by the gun explosions they heard. A Gold Louis silenced them. When it came to fencing, the results were a lot more unsatisfactory. He could fight, his heart was in the right place; yet I have never seen a clumsier swordsman. In 3 seconds, his sabre was flying off his hand. Which was bad; what was worse is that he got me almost killed as throwing his weapon on the floor in disgust, the blade bounced toward me. I escaped the blade; after all I am a warrior. But made a mental note, to be far from him when he was armed with any form of sword.

He knew medicine, was skilled with his hands. Good. He was not afraid of sea. Good. What remained was the wolf thing. Between the two of us, we solved the problem. Being sole commander aboard, I ordered the blacksmith to build a cage to be fit into my quarters. The cage was small, space on board is scarce. Solomon did not mind, he would have to stand up for the time being. The cage was officially for any prisoner who would be reluctant to divulge to our King naval secrets. Why a cage and why in my room, would be looked at an idiosyncrasy of one of those privateer captain.

"At least, I will not put humans at risk. I had to flee my native Russian ghetto. If…something had happen, the repercussion on my people…"

"Aye, I know, those Eastern princes are not too friendly. Now I remember you said Westphal…"

"I lied"

"God! I believed you. You are good, you know!"

We boarded the Maid. Solomon was already rummaging in the small infirmary. The sails were open. The quay was empty, we were leaving; my heart was heavy. Then a small commotion happened. On the pier, a duena was running after a young girl. The girl stopped at the end of the quay, waved a lace handkerchief and bowed to my ship. Solomon looked quite surprised as I raised my feathered hat and saluted her. The bow would not as been amiss in Versailles corridors, the bow was fit for a lady; as it was my sweetheart who had forgiven her ramshackle lover.

After that, The Maid raided the Americas coasts. The Spanish Main was ours to plunder. Spanish gold. The Stuart navy did hold no love for us, the dislike was mutual. Solomon grew a beard; well in those days, we all sported facial appendages. My own taste ran for a sleek moustache. No, I did no have any earring. For God sake, I was a privateer. Had I been Catholic, I would have worn a uniform! There is nothing romantic about being a sailor. Pray stop deluding yourself. If we wore breeches, top boots, flowing so-so white shirts and a sash around the waist, we also wore heavy coats again the gale, smelled like underwashed pigs, and about all missed a tooth or more.

Solomon, every full month would come and play cards. That was until the moon rose, then the creature would throw itself at the iron cage walls. If it was surprised at changing in a moving board close to a table adorned with candlesticks, a wine bottle or two, facing a loaded pair of pistols again and again as the months progressed, it never showed. What showed was Solomon total inability to fire a pistol against any human being. He was good on target as long as the target was made of wood; against a human, his range was pitiful. Dangerous to us, that is what he was. He shot eyes closed. After that, he was quarantined to the infirmary each time we came into contact with another ship and ready to battle.

As a doctor, he was good. This left cheek scar, the one joining the eye to the lip, he stitched it very carefully. By the end of the operation, I was truly drunk as alcohol was our one and only anaesthetic! Louis was happy with the gold getting into his coffers, Solomon was happy. Everyone was happy, but me, my double me. My human self pinned after his ladylove, I was worried about the Young One and the Fallen One, not to say the fair one lover. Where were they? I had chosen a life where I could travel, and meet a lot of people of different nations. That night, when I met the fair one and those vampires, I had been elated. Barely twenty six and already one of the original three was safely under my stewardship. Now almost a year later, still no sign of the other twos and no more sign of the exiled Dark Ones. Hear. Never complain about fate, for Fate will serve you right.

That day, we were sailing side by side. Smiling Larmoyer as my friend was called, dear Francois killed by an Algiers scimitar, but that would be much later, had joined us. Both Privateer and Navy, we were appraising the sea. When the sailor on duty called for our attention. A long blank smoke was seen floating by the horizon line. The longue-vue showed a Portuguese heavy merchant galley attacked by 2 pirate ships.

- "Dear, dear Henri(for that was my name, Father worshipping our King grand father). Henri, are we to stay idle and not help the poor rich Lisboa merchants against those most vile pirates?"

- "Francois, methinks a bit of Furia Francese would teach them to be wiser next time"

We went and fate was sealed. The Portuguese galley was held between the deadly embrace of the 2 pirates faster sleeker ships. Which curiously were not fleeing despite our flags and now our canons. They were even answering back! Not that it mattered. I could not understand, had a look closer. And had a signal raised to Francois. Writing as quick as I could with a pen, not bothering to sand bloat it, I put the message in an empty rum bottle and threw it away to my French friend. Bless his good heart, he was surprised but complied. I must tell you the request was unusual, not easy to achieve between 4 boats firing at each other. Yet it was done. All around our necks at the time, we had some sort of scarf, a proto-tie possibly. Well, it came handy and right on time. For I knew those pirates. The short blond one was the Cunning One, the taller younger one was my Fallen kin.

We were two human Royal Navy ships against two vampire pirates ships. I tried not to look concerned, because I knew somewhere within our 5 ships my sister and the human girl must be. And they were, as a bunch of ruffians dragged out of the recess of the poor merchant ship a pair of terrified girls. The human one was, this time, a Portuguese girl, my sister was her servant. What mattered, here, both were human, both were girls and both in mortal danger of vampire bites.

The vampiric crews were grinning, they really thought they had their days or nights made with the added bonus of the arrival of our unsuspecting ships. That was their plan till I shot up in the air. The vampires froze. As one man, we all removed our scarves. On each side of our neck, we had a large black cross feverishly painted a few minutes before. My sailors may have been surprised, but as long as it was a way to thank Saint Malo to protect his sons, they were happy to paint their throats.

The scales were even, the cards were of equal value. You should have seen the smooth talker face. It contorted in rage, then he used his own telescope and smiled. For he has recognized me; he bowed, the bastard.

"Unhand the ladies. The Merchant has been too badly hit. Leave the ladies with us and we shall let you flee"

Their crew would not; all they could hear was the girls blood racing and our own. Their men tried to come closer; when the Blond one armoury exploded. I smiled for I had sent a man to swim around the blond ship and cause the explosion. I was planning on the vampires to be distracted by our heart beats to pay attention to a one solitary one by their armoury. Santa Barba must not have loved vampires.

The pirates only hope was now to gain access to one of our ship. They were desperate, we were devils. They had to fight us the way humans do. Well, the way pirates fight soldiers. Not pretty. It is cut throat against cutlass, sword against sword, pistols and shots all over. The Young one was my target, I fought through and through, Yes I killed. Again and again. I had to protect my sister and her friend. I had almost reached them. When my sword met another one. The Fallen One. Who was he really on Earth before being turned? Those pirates were Stuart King subjects. English? No, Irish. Then Catholic and no friend of the Goddams. We could have been friends. Destiny was that we cannot be friends.

He was a mean fencer, I was not bad myself in the game. We fought and I was winning. Or so I thought, when my own sister betrayed me. She tried and held my arm. By then the Fallen One had regained advantage. But the Human lover fought back and caught the traitress. The ship was sinking, in fire, we were fighting and the girls were fighting against each other. I had no choice. Taking hold of the Portuguese lass, I saluted the Fallen, held a rope and jumped overboard with my fair charge. Suffice to know, I swore belatedly to learn how to swim. Francois threw a rope. We were not pretty looking when we crawled up to reach his deck.

The Fallen was holding the Young One in his arms. She seemed very happy; she would be less so when later she would realize what he was. We left the sinking galley, the pirates and we moved away. I think that somehow, what was left of the pirates was able to board on their own remaining ship.

They went west, we sailed back home. My sister , by now would have become a monster like him. Would he still protect her? My heart was heavy. Solomon was working like an angel of mercy. Blissfully unaware that his brother was but a few yards from him, he has been cutting limbs, dressing wounds like the perfect sawbones he was. I went down to see him, when I saw the shadow.

"Win one, lose one. That's a sailor life for you"

I ran after him with my sabre out ready to cut his head off. But he was quicker, the blond one jumped into the sea and swam vigorously toward his pirate ship. I ran to the infirmary, but the silence had already told me the awful truth. The wounded sailors had all been killed and Solomon, my friend, the fair one was dead, a bullet, one single silver bullet between his eyes, his glasses shattered on the board. Solomon who had not painted the crosses on his neck sides. I knelt and wept. That is when I learnt that men, real men do cry.

"Was he a friend, this Jew?"

I lifted my head and saw her, the human lover.

"If you knew, you would weep too"

She must have never understand what I meant. Yet she prayed for the soul she could have called hers. She prayed for us, for them. She was a good lady. But, oh my, feisty as are her people!

We left her to a Swedish Merchant ship and repaired to Martinique. I was now very well alone. Only once in a lifetime would I be given the chance to have the four ones together. I had missed the opportunity, through no fault of mine. Never would I be able again, under this human guise to find them. Solomon the fair one was dead buried at sea, the human lover was safely away, probably in a convent because the events aboard the ship had sadly shaken her. For once, I was all in favour of this solution for her. She had seen what vampires can do; not many humans can bear the sight of it and not lose their minds.

The lovers, the Fallen and the Young ones, my sister and the Dark One, as I had no choice but call him so now, must be sailing together. The Cunning One must have been overjoyed. In his hand, a White or rather a Gray and her lover. He would contaminate her, and probably kill her. How come I am not afraid of her dying? We do not do Death. Not that we are immortal; we change aspects, we die but we live again. Death is not the End. I was not afraid for her physical appearance whatever form she took, I was afraid for her immortal soul.

Francois always called me a deep one. He was right. As soon as we went back to our native Normandy, I rode to my sweetheart home. Would have told her father I was to marry her, when my own experience told me to choose the back entrance. My father had tried to marry my Catholic mother, this lead to the success we know. I was going to marry my girl under my rules. Louis becoming every day nastier to my people, we would flee together to Britain. She would come with me and become a dutiful Huguenot wife. If she was surprised that for once, I raised my voice, she did not say. But I was worried sick, the next night on the beach, a rowboat waiting for the two of us. She would never come, never leave her father. I was a fool, she never loved me. Worse, her father had found out and locked her away. What was I to do? Free her? A light running toward me was my reward. She was carrying in that lace handkerchief of her all her riches, she said tearfully, complaining I was marrying a beggar.

Happy people do not make headlines. We went onboard my ship, then again we left the ship, rowing together toward Britain . One of their coastguards picked us up. We were heading for safety at last. Our children would serve the Stuarts. As the day broke, we were watching fading in the horizon the coast of the country of our fathers. From now on, we would be exiles. But were we really to be pitied? My sweetheart led me a pretty dance and her groom was not an easy man to please. So? We were happy! And…I died just like everybody. But that is another chapter. Another reincarnation cycle. Were you thinking I would have abandoned them?


End file.
